


Night of Respite

by ZionAngel



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mayor Belle, Rumbelle - Freeform, Smut, smutty smutty Rumbelle smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 15:51:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZionAngel/pseuds/ZionAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle has proven herself to be a competent and skilled mayor, but the stress is taking a toll on her.  Rumpelstiltskin knows how to take care of her.  (Or, Rumple is a sub in all ways.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night of Respite

**Author's Note:**

> An AU where nothing terrible happened and nobody got fridged, ever. AKA, most of season 2 never happened.

Given the circumstances of their time together, first with her as his maid and then his lover in a chaotic town, Rumpelstiltskin never gave much thought to the idea of his Belle as a leader. Even so, when Regina’s crimes proved too great and the Charmings too caught up in it all to see straight, and the town had thrown together an election in two short weeks, he was not surprised when she emerged the winner. Nor was he surprised in the following months when she proved to be quite skilled at the job, possessing just the right blend of common sense, compassion and pragmatism to ease the chaos that plagued Storybrooke. Things changed dramatically during her time as mayor. The town is safer, not under constant fear of attack from any number of vengeful former rulers, or at risk of getting caught in the crossfire of a populace still reeling from being torn from their world and their lives and memories and loved ones.

For another, while Rumpelstiltskin has never had so few rude demands on his time and abilities, Belle has not been so stressed since her village faced death and destruction at the hands of ogres. Part of her many weeks of late nights and hard work involved making sure the town knew that her lover was not pestered with rude demands or have his time wasted or be interrupted during a private moment. It also helps that, with things being less chaotic in general, people need him less. And as grateful as he is for all of her efforts, as plain as it is to see that the whole town is better off for having her as their leader, he hates it for the toll it takes on her.

Tonight, as usual, he is home hours before her. He cooks up a simple pasta dish that she has shown a fondness for, automatically pouring half onto a plate and half in to a Tupperware container to go in the fridge. He eats alone at the kitchen table, glancing at the door and his phone every few minutes, even though he does not expect to see anything for some time. He knows better than to call her – despite the stress it causes her, she is quite competent at her new job, and she doesn’t need the distraction when she is no doubt struggling to tie up the day’s loose ends so that she can come home.

Eventually, when the dishes are washed and he’s managed to sit and read his book and not putter anxiously for some time, he hears her key in the lock. He stands and follows the sound, and his heart clenches at the sight she makes. Her hair is up in a messy bun, locks falling out everywhere, and instead of its usual chestnut shine, it is dull and dingy from going too many days without being washed. What little makeup she had time to put on this morning has worn off, and there are dark circles beneath her half-closed eyes. She kicks off her shoes as if she can barely stand, and she removes her coat slowly and with obvious discomfort, like an old woman. She hardly seems to notice that he is there until he comes up behind her, hooking his cane over his arm so that he can help her hang the coat. She looks up at him, seeming so small and fragile, and he pulls her into a tender, chaste kiss before wrapping his arms around her and just holding her close.

For several minutes he just holds her, letting the warmth and tenderness of his embrace drain the tension and stress from her body. He pulls the elastic from her hair, letting it fall loose so that he can comb his fingers through it, caressing her scalp, while his other hand rubs circles in her back. He feels himself relax along with her when he hears her quiet sigh, grateful that he can make her feel better.

Soon, before she has a chance to fall asleep standing in his arms, he releases her and guides her towards the kitchen. He pulls a chair out for her at the table, and takes out the Tupperware container of pasta from earlier. As he reheats it, he pours her a small glass of wine, and a large glass of water. He needs two trips to bring it all to the table with his cane, but she smiles at him through lidded eyes each time. He sits beside her, stroking her arm and waiting patiently as she manages to eat nearly half of what’s on her plate, occasionally feeding her bites when she can’t seem to muster the strength to lift the fork to her mouth. He leaves the dishes on the table when she is done, and guides her upstairs. She is tired, still, but at least seems to have some of her color back.

As they ascend the stairs, she moves even more slowly than he normally does. Soon, though, they make it to the bedroom, where he perches her on the edge of the bed. He leaves her with gentle instructions to start undressing, while he goes into the master bath to begin filling the clawfoot tub. Back in the bedroom, he helps her remove the last of her clothes, and sits just behind her so that he may brush the tangles from her hair.

He leads her to the bath, helping her ease down into the water, and he doesn’t miss her moan as the heat seeps into her muscles. He rolls up his sleeves, his jacket and tie long gone, and carefully scoops warm water over her shoulders as the tub finishes filling. He asks her to dip her hair back into the water, soaking it as he pours shampoo into his hands. He lathers it into her hair slowly, gently, taking special care to massage her scalp and temples and neck for long minutes. He slides a hand behind her neck to support her head as he helps her lean back again, washing the suds out of her hair. He takes as much care with the conditioner, working it through every strand and massaging her shoulders as he lets it set. As she leans back to let him rinse her hair again, she stares up at him, her half-lidded eyes full of love and contentment, the faintest of smiles gracing her lips.

He holds a warm towel open for her as she stands, wrapping it snugly around her. He holds her close as he walks her the few steps out to the bed, careful that she doesn’t slip on wet tile. They sit together in the center of the bed, as he towels her hair, careful not to pull or tangle. Her eyes are still tired, but more lucid and relaxed now. When he finishes and moves to return the towel to the bathroom, she stops him with a hand to his cheek, and leans in for a kiss. She lingers, taking his bottom lip between hers, nibbling slowly, sensual but slow. When she pulls back, she blinks up at him with a look that he knows, loving and hopeful and pleading, saying what she doesn’t have the strength to. His mouth turns up in one of his little grins as he stands just long enough to slip off his shoes and turn down the blankets on her side of the bed.

He makes sure her head is comfortably on the pillows before he joins her on the bed again, leaning over and kissing her slowly, with every bit of tender passion and desire he can muster. He does the work, carefully exploring her mouth with his and seeking out every sensitive place he knows, only leaving her the task of moaning softly and shifting beneath him. He continues on for long minutes, until she moves just so beneath him. He knows her body and desires well enough to recognize the signal. His mouth begins a long trail down her neck, over each breast and across her stomach, sometimes nipping, sometimes sucking, other times simply pressing his lips to her skin.

When he reaches her hips, she parts her legs for him, and the heady scent of her is nearly overwhelming. That she could be so aroused by so little tells him that she is every bit as desperate as he is, these weeks of stress taking their toll on her. She has missed him as much as he has her, and he is reminded just how much she craves and needs this connection between them.

He settles between her legs, his tongue dragging through her folds and dragging a high, needy groan from her. He laps at her, gentle at first, his hands on her hips as much to ground her and give his comfort as keep her still. He works his lips and teeth and tongue in all the ways he knows she likes best, building her up slowly but steadily, not wanting to tease her or delay her much-needed release tonight. Her legs soon tighten around his head, muffling her sweat moans and cries, but her fingers card through his hair, petting and scratching gently. He focusses every fiber of his being on her, on this moment, on his love for her, on how much he has missed her, on how grateful he is to have her now, always, on how much he loves caring for her and serving her, loves giving her this.

She rocks her hips against him now, need and desire overwhelming her exhaustion. He vaguely makes out what might be a name, but he is too distracted by her scent and taste and the feeling of her fingers tugging at his hair and his overwhelming love for her. She goes rigid and still for one long, agonizing moment, and then her whole body rocks against his mouth as she comes, screaming his name. He never lets up, drawing out her pleasure as long as he can, then bringing her down gently.

He kisses his way back up her body, marveling at the way her stomach rises and falls, and the way he can feel her fluttering heart beneath his lips. When he reaches her mouth, she drapes her arms over his neck, sated and happy and even more exhausted than before. When they pull apart, she is barely able to keep her eyes open. He rolls off of her, quickly stripping off the rest of his clothing, and he pulls the blankets up around them both. She shifts to face the far wall, and he spoons up behind her, savoring the exquisite feeling of skin against skin.

He wraps his arm around her waist, snuggling against her as her breathing deepens. He smiles, content. He kisses her bare shoulder, and even though he knows she is already asleep, he tells her how much he loves her.


End file.
